


run from me or rip me open

by KelseyO



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (I promise), Angst, Anorexia, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Character Study, Confrontations, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/F, Gen, Happy Ending, Mental Health Issues, PLEASE READ THE UPDATED TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS, Panic Attacks, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-10-15 21:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17536442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: She's had enough of everyone's jokes about her eating habits.+Kara stops eating and Lena is the only one who notices. Character study fic. Major trigger warning for eating disorders. Title from "Idle Worship" by Paramore.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a dream I had and written with the blessing of a close friend who's struggled with ED's.
> 
> This has been several months in the making, and I really hope you guys appreciate the intent of this fic and its departure from standard Supercorp stuff. I just love Kara Danvers a lot and I want her to have the space to feel complicated shit.
> 
> Comments mean the world to me.

 

Sometimes, one of the things she finds herself envying most about Alex is the stack of old textbooks gathering dust at the bottom of her closet.

She sees them when she’s looking for clothes to borrow, or stealing back her own; peeking out from underneath plastic bins of papers and report cards and an enormous trash bag that barely contains the Beanie Baby collection Alex hasn’t touched since they were kids but probably will never get rid of.

(The whole pile is heavy enough that she doubts Alex would ever bother moving it, wonders if Alex even could.

Kara can.)

After weeks of internal debate and careful planning, she does—and she finds _Biology_ , _The Human Body_ , and _Anatomy & Physiology_, tells Alex that she’s donating them to a local charity, then takes them home, spreads them all out on her bed, and _reads_.

She went to school alongside Alex for years, so it’s not like any of this is unfamiliar to her; but when your entire adolescence is focused on both how to use your Kryptonian powers and how to not reveal to anyone that you have them, there’s not much spare time for actual studying, deep thought, or existential crises.

Not that she’s having an existential crisis, or any sort of crisis. Just a few questions.

Questions like whether her insides match any of the diagrams in these books, or whether her blood is any different from a human’s (and if it’s blood at all), or whether her body needs the same nutrition that Alex’s does.

(There’s an entire chapter on the digestive system, and she spends the rest of the night thinking about hunger and fullness and every single joke someone’s made about her eating habits.

She skips dinner.)

 

+

 

Breakfast doesn’t happen either, and when Alex shows up the next morning to an unused kitchen, she looks around like something very important is missing.

“Did you eat already?” she asks, peeking into the fridge and pulling out the orange juice.

Kara shrugs. “Just wanna get to work early today,” she replies, and it’s not a lie because it’s not really an answer at all.

Alex drinks half a glass, offers Kara a sip that she rejects, then finishes the rest. “J’onn still wants to brief us on last week’s attack. Can you disappear for an hour this afternoon?”

“I’ll tell Lena I’m getting lunch with you.”

A soft laugh as Alex rinses her glass in the sink. “Y’know, sometimes I start to worry that you use the lunch excuse too often, but then I think about how much you eat, and I wonder if the CatCo cafeteria would even be able to handle you full-time.”

Kara pretends to study her blank phone screen. “You want me to make up an appointment or something?”

“Are you kidding?” Alex jokes. “Your teeth are perfect and you never get sick—both of which I’m _still_ jealous of, by the way.”

Something flares in the pit of Kara’s stomach and she has to be gentler than usual with her jacket zipper so she doesn’t break it right off. “You ready to go?” she asks, keys in her hand and feet heading for the door as Alex dries the glass with a dishcloth.

Alex “Mm-hmms” and checks the time on her phone. “We can stop somewhere if you want. I can get a coffee, you can get three bagels, three muffins, and—”

Kara accidentally slams the door shut and winces at Alex’s look. “Sorry. It’s been sticking.” She adjusts her glasses. “And I’m fine. I don’t want anything.”

“Okay,” Alex surrenders with a shrug.

(She likes that this is the kind of battle she can win without her cape.)

 

+

 

The day drags on and she finds herself glancing at the clock more than usual, thinking about food and whether she’s thinking about food because she’s hungry, or because she just likes food, or because she apparently doesn’t understand anything _about_ food.

“Good morning, Kara.”

Lena’s voice startles her out of her thoughts and she quickly opens up her email window as if she hasn’t been caught staring into space. “Morning.”

“The bakery across the street brought us a massive basket of pastries,” Lena announces excitedly. “It’s on the table in James’s office if you’re interested.”

Kara gives her what she hopes is a genuine smile. “No thanks. I had a really big breakfast.”

“Of course,” Lena agrees. “Any lunch plans, then? My assistant found this gorgeous new pizza place a few blocks away—”

“I’m meeting Alex,” she interrupts before Lena can try to talk her into eating an entire pie by herself, and she decides the “Sorry” that follows is sincere.

If Lena’s put off, she doesn’t show it. “Well, let me know when you’re free and I’ll make a reservation,” she says, then her phone chimes and she reads the screen intently. “In other news, that senator’s lawyer just released a statement full of blatant lies. Think you can have your piece ready for tomorrow morning?”

“You got it.”

“You’re the best,” Lena replies, glancing over her shoulder as she walks away. “Tell Alex I said hello.”

Kara opens the file on her computer and reads through the single paragraph she’s written so far, doing a mental count of how many hours she has to finish the story and how long she thinks it’ll take her, then arranges her fingertips on the keyboard and begins to type.

If she skips lunch and dinner, she’s calculated, she’ll be able to send it to Lena tonight.

 

+

 

She doesn’t realize she’s slept through her alarm until Alex calls.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t stop by for breakfast,” she says. “I ended up doing an overnight at the DEO and I’m still wrapping things up.”

Kara rubs her eyes and gingerly sits up in bed. “Um. It’s okay. I had to do some work stuff anyways.”

“Since we’ve already done a fake lunch this week, wanna do a real one? Maybe that buffet place on Main Street that almost kicked us out last time?”

She pulls a shirt out of her closet without looking at it, sets it on her bed, and flips on the bathroom light.

“Kara? Are you there?”

“Uh—y-yeah,” she says, shaking her head to clear it.

A beat of silence. “Yeah as in you’re there, or yeah as in you’re up for lunch?”

She stalls with her hand on the hot water knob in the shower. “I… have plans with Lena, actually,” she replies, and she’s not sure if she’s getting better at lying or if she’s too tired to sound guilty. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just remember you have training later.”

“I’ll be there,” Kara promises.

The call ends and she sets her phone face-down on the edge of the sink, holds her hand under the stream to test the temperature, then takes off her sweatpants and t-shirt and glances at herself in the mirror.

Everything looks completely ordinary: her skin is clear, her body is free of bruises or cuts, and since only she can feel the emptiness in her stomach—or the Kryptonian equivalent, if there even is one—nothing indicates that she’s changed anything about her eating habits.

She steps into the shower and bows her head so the water cascades down her back, thinking about how she’ll need to skip breakfast to get to CatCo on time.

Maybe she doesn’t need breakfast. Maybe she doesn’t need lunch or dinner, either.

(She is invincible, after all.

Isn’t she?)


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who left a supportive comment on Part One--for acknowledging that this sort of fic hasn't been written before, and for being so cool with that, because navigating uncharted territory in such a popular fandom is scary and I'm glad you're into it.
> 
> You might notice that the chapter count went from 1/3 to 2/5, and that's because I ended up breaking some longer chapters in half so certain parts would have more time to breathe between updates. This chapter was and the next chapter is already written, but I'm still working on the rest, so things will probably slow down a little going forward.
> 
> Feedback helps tremendously, though. xo

Kara’s decided she likes working through her lunch hour.

The floor is silent, even with the few employees who eat at their desks, and that makes it so much easier to think—about the corrupt politicians she’s taking down in this story, and about whether she should ask James to turn down the air conditioning just a little, and about why she didn’t cut food out of her life sooner.

There’s movement on the other side of the room and Kara looks up automatically, only to make eye contact with Lena, and she immediately ducks behind her computer screen for reasons she can’t quite explain to herself.

(Her super-hearing kicks in automatically and she listens to the heel-clicks come closer, closer, closer.)

“You must not have heard about the free finger-sandwiches downstairs,” Lena says, perching on the edge of Kara’s desk.

“I did,” she says a little more tightly than she intends, “from about half the staff.” Deep breath in through her nose, out through her mouth. “I’m just in the middle of some things.”

Lena glances at her watch. “I have a conference call in a few minutes. You could join me after for a late lunch date?”

Kara keeps her eyes on her screen. “I wish I could, but I already have plans with Alex.”

“Maybe instead of reserving tables,” Lena muses quietly, “I should start reserving you.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just been kind of a crazy week.”

Lena shakes her head. “No need to apologize. But I _am_ starting to miss my best friend.”

Kara manages a small but genuine smile. ”I miss you too.”

For a moment Lena just studies her, long enough for Kara’s knee to start bouncing under her desk, and Lena’s mouth opens and closes a few times like she’s trying to say something but can’t get the words out. “Are you…?” she begins, and Kara’s fingertips pause against the keyboard. “Are you meeting Alex soon?” she asks finally.

“Any minute now,” Kara replies, gesturing to her phone. “Just waiting for her to text me.”

Lena nods a few too many times. “What do you think you’re going to get?”

“Probably a little bit of everything. Maybe a lot of everything. Who really knows with me, right?”

“Well,” Lena says after a beat, “I’m almost done reading through what you sent me last night.”

“And?”

Lena just shrugs and takes a step away from Kara’s desk. “It’s too bad you’re meeting Alex,” she says over her shoulder. “We could’ve discussed everything over lunch.”

Her tone is coy, but Kara’s insides tense anyway.

 

+

 

She’s hitting this stupid target as hard as she can, and everyone keeps telling her she needs to hit it harder, use more control, focus on technique, and finally she sends her fist right through it.

“There,” she snaps with what little breath she has left, “you happy?”

Alex frowns at her tablet. “I would’ve been happier if you’d done that ten minutes ago.”

Kara rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I still didn’t break a sweat.”

“And I’m still not sure you even _can_ break a sweat,” Alex counters, “but that’s not the point.”

She roundhouse-kicks what’s left of the target and the remnants crumble to the floor. “Well, what _is_ the point?”

Alex taps a few buttons on the screen, still not glancing up from her data. “For starters, your stats have been off all week. Slow reflexes, less force per hit… either this thing is busted and Winn needs to re-calibrate the sensors, or—”

“Or I’m just tired,” Kara interrupts, “and you should get off my back.”

She’s shaking her head before Kara finishes the sentence. “You’ve only shown fatigue from physical activity when you’ve fought another alien or had your powers drained. You shouldn’t slow down after regular exercise the way a human would.”

Kara takes a deep breath and attempts not to exhale any harder than normal. “You know what? You’re absolutely right—I just wasn’t trying hard enough. Reset the session.”

A new target pops up from under the floor and Kara stares it down, thinks about each of the voices in her head asking her what she ate, how much she ate, does she want to eat, how does she eat so much, and hits it hard enough to break it cleanly in half.

“Attagirl,” Alex says with a smile.

(Her hand throbs when she puts her normal clothes back on, and she doesn’t flinch once.)

 

+

 

Kara gets to work early, knocks out two and a half of the pieces in her queue (keeping her WPM exactly where it should be even as one set of knuckles protests), and reorganizes her entire computer desktop all before noon, which leaves her less than half an hour to figure out a fake lunch plan before Lena stops by with one of her own.

She grimaces at the sound of her phone chiming on the desk but brightens when the text from Alex is about a DEO crisis instead of food, and she shoves away from her desk and is pushing the “Lobby” button thirty seconds later.

“Kara, hold the elevator?”

She hears Lena’s voice and reaches out on instinct, ignoring the flare of pain as her hand makes contact with the cold metal of the doors.

Lena hurries inside and checks the time on her phone. “If I manage to get to this meeting on time,” she says, “you will have single-handedly saved my life.”

Kara adjusts her glasses, smiles. “All in a day’s work.”

“Can I repay you with sushi this afternoon?” Lena asks after a beat, eyes still on her screen.

“I’m actually on my way to go run a few errands,” Kara says easily enough. “Otherwise, I would _totally_ take you up on that offer.”

The _ding_ of the next floor fills the silence.

“What did you eat for lunch?”

Kara looks up to meet Lena’s eyes without meaning to, and every feature of her face is neutral. “Um. Just a sandwich… I don’t remember the name of the place,” she continues with a chuckle. “I didn’t put much thought into it. Just needed some fuel to get through the afternoon.”

They reach the lobby and walk side-by-side out the front doors, and Kara’s looking for a discreet place to get airborne when Lena’s hand lightly squeezes her sore one.

“Thanks again,” Lena says quietly before heading toward the shiny black car waiting at the curb.

Kara watches her disappear into the backseat, then flexes her fingers, studying the lack of bruises or swelling on any of the knuckles.

Still no visible damage.


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news: I'm updating a day earlier than I originally planned because the last one was the shortest and you all deserve more words. The bad news: this is the last pre-written chapter and I'm still working on everything that follows, which means more time between updates. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's left a comment--your thoughts are my lifeblood as a writer, and I conceptualized this fic with the intention of starting a conversation about the potential of Kara's psyche. I sincerely hope you continue to enjoy and care about where all this goes.

Someone grips her shoulder and she twists away, blindly striking the air in front of her, but another hand holds onto her wrist and she can’t seem to pull free from its grasp.

“Kara!”

She opens her eyes to find Alex perched on the edge of her mattress and still restraining Kara’s clenched fist, staring at Kara in confusion.

“You have super-hearing and it still took me four tries to wake you up,” Alex says, letting go once Kara’s arm relaxes. “Did you forget to set your alarm or something?”

Kara thinks about glancing at the clock but then decides she doesn’t really care. “Yeah, I—yeah. Thanks for…” The words dissolve in her mouth. “Um, I gotta get ready. I’ll text Lena that I’m—”

“Are you okay?” Alex interrupts gently and reaches out so Kara will stay put.

“Totally,” Kara replies with a shrug, then waits maybe a beat too long to ask “Why?”

Alex sighs. “I don’t know. You just… you don’t seem yourself lately. Is it something at work? Are you getting backlash for those pieces on the senator?”

“No, I—”

“Is someone threatening you? Because you know I would _never_ let anything—”

“It’s nothing at work, Alex,” Kara insists. “It’s nothing at _all_. Everything is completely normal,” she says, then rolls her eyes, “or at least as normal as it can be for an alien masquerading as a human.”

Alex is still looking in her in _that way_ as Kara writes out a text message to Lena. “You wanna talk about it?”

Kara keeps typing. “About what?”

“About the gigantic chip on your shoulder.”

“You know I’m late for work and you’re still trying to have a heart-to-heart?” Kara attempts to joke, shoving her blankets aside so she can get out of bed.

Alex doesn’t move. “I’m trying to have a heart-to-heart and you’re blowing me off,” she counters, sounding more determined now.

“Because there’s no reason to have one,” Kara barely avoids snapping, and gets out of bed on the other side.

“Right,” Alex retorts, “just that you’re clearly upset about something and you won’t tell me what it is.”

Kara yanks a shirt out of her closet and tosses in the general direction of her mattress. “Or maybe you’re completely off-base,” she says as calmly as she can, “and I only _seem_ upset because you won’t take my word for it.”

Alex is silent as Kara closes the bathroom door behind her and turns on the shower. “I can see it, Kara. I can hear it in your voice.”

“I’m the one with super-powers here, remember?”

“I don’t need powers to know that something is wrong,” Alex argues from right outside the bathroom. “I’m your sister.”

Kara takes a deep breath but still opens the door with more force than she should. “What’s the point of a sister who doesn’t trust me?”

The question catches Alex off-guard and her eyes study the floor for a long moment. “You’re right,” she says quietly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wasn’t being fair. I do trust you, I promise.”

“It’s fine,” Kara mutters. “I need to shower.”

Alex nods a few times. “I also trust that you’re available for Game Night this weekend?”

She nearly breaks off the doorknob at the idea of spending her evening with bottomless snacks and a room full of people all expecting to watch her eat them, but Alex looks so cautiously hopeful that every excuse freezes in her mouth.

(Kara thinks about all the times Alex called out sick from school or work to spend time with her or help Jeremiah with a family crisis, about kids in her class skipping birthday parties just because they didn’t feel like going, about how easy it is for her coworkers to get a day off with a simple white lie.)

( _“You want me to make up an appointment or something?”_

 _“Are you kidding? Your teeth are perfect and you never get sick—both of which I’m_ **_still_ ** _jealous of, by the way.”_ )

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she says, and closes the door.

 

+

 

**_RESTAURANT OWNERS PROMISE SUPERGIRL UNLIMITED FREE PIZZA AFTER DARING FIRE RESCUE_ **

The headline shows up on her phone and in her email and even on one of the monitors behind James’s desk, and she spends the entire day convincing herself not to fry every screen in the office with her heat vision.

She’s dreading the conversation she knows Lena will want to have about it and the inevitable jokes that will be sprinkled in… but she also hasn’t seen Lena since she got to her desk half an hour late, and there’s a tiny ball of anxiety in the pit of her stomach that’s wondering if her own absence this morning is the reason for Lena’s absence now.

It’s not until she’s packing up for the day that she finally spots Lena exit the private elevator. One of the interns latches on immediately and Kara considers just leaving, considers assuming Lena didn’t even notice her lateness this morning and therefore hasn’t raced to any dramatic conclusions about why; but Kara finds herself frozen at her desk, because what if Lena did notice, and what if she’s way more worried than she needs to be, and what if…?

“Hey, Lena, can I talk to you?” she blurts as Lena nears her side of the room.

Lena’s eyes snap to hers, and she waves off the intern and beckons Kara over. “You know my answer is always yes,” she says, tucking her phone away and giving Kara her full attention. “What’s on your mind?”

“Um. I just wanted to mention…” Kara pauses to find the right words and Lena shifts closer.

“What is it, Kara?”

She takes a deep breath. “Just, in the spirit of full transparency… you should know that I was late today,” she admits. “But it was just a weird alarm thing, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

Lena’s looking at her, really _looking_ , and finally she glances around the office. “I appreciate your honesty,” she says, and her next words are somewhat hushed. “However, right now I’m worried less about your punctuality and more about…” Lena falters mid-sentence and Kara’s mouth goes dry.

“About what?”

Lena shakes her head slightly and grabs her phone again to check something. “Sorry, my mind is in a million different places at the moment. The deadline on your piece—is it too tight? Do you need extra time?”

Kara tries to hold in her sigh of relief. “No! Nope. I can handle it. I’m making some really good progress already. But thanks for offering.”

“Well,” she says after a beat, “if you run into any problems, or it’s too much… just tell me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

Lena’s tone is way too sincere for a simple promise about workload, and Kara puts extra effort into her smile. “You got it.”

Kara heads to the elevator and stares mostly at the floor until Lena’s hand surges forward to keep the doors open at the last moment; she joins Kara and they stand in uncharacteristic silence for one, two, three floors.

“What did you eat today?” Lena asks, her voice almost painfully neutral.

Even as the tension in her abdomen explodes, she still waits for a follow-up—something to make the question feel less pointed or accusatory—but there’s only heavy, loaded silence.

The doors open and Kara doesn’t hesitate before bolting through the lobby, doesn’t hear Lena following her, doesn’t turn around to look.


	4. Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends. I'm so, so sorry for keeping you waiting this long. I thought about you and this story every single day for the past three months, but my brain is an anxious, depressed, uncooperative little shit and I wasn't able to write nearly as often or as quickly as I wanted. Massive thank you to every person who's left one or multiple comments--your feedback keeps me going and has meant the world to me.
> 
> This chapter in particular was very challenging and stressful to write (and twice as long as the others), and I'm sure it won't be much easier to read, and for those reasons I'm urging you: take care of and protect yourself. 
> 
> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS for ongoing eating disorder headspace, confrontations about eating habits, and eventually vomiting. Things get more specific and much more intense here; please take into consideration what you can and can't handle.
> 
> See you on the other side.

“Again.”

Kara picks herself up off the floor and launches a one-two punch that Alex easily deflects, then tries to kick Alex’s feet out from under her only for Alex to grip her ankle and once again send her flying onto her back.

“Get up. Again.”

She gets to her feet and tries to do the same move faster; Alex seizes her wrist and Kara pulls her into a headlock, but Alex flips her with a grunt and seconds later Kara is sprawled at Alex’s feet.

Alex checks her watch and gets back into position. “Come on, Supergirl. J’onn’s not gonna let you fight bad guys if you can’t even beat me. Show me what you’ve got.”

“We’ve been at this for hours,” Kara pants, pushing herself back up and arranging her stance to match Alex.

“And?” Alex presses a button on her watch and a slot opens in the ceiling, revealing a row of several guns that all aim directly at Kara. “You need to be ready for anything and everything.”

The guns all fire at once and Kara dodges every projectile, but she has to lean against a practice dummy for a few beats to catch her breath.

Alex is focused on her watch. “Get through this training and I’ll buy you a family-size bucket of potstickers,” she offers before hitting the same button.

“Is food literally the only incentive you can think of?” Kara snaps as she maneuvers around the room, but she doesn’t see Alex waiting for her; the bottom of Alex’s boot hits her square in her rib cage and she doubles over in pain.

“Don’t let new threats distract you from old ones,” Alex instructs. “And what would you prefer?”

Kara struggles to stand up straight. “I don’t know,” she mutters without thinking, “maybe a break?”

That gets Alex’s attention. “Are you okay?”

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Kara blurts, turning away from Alex so she won’t see Kara clutching her side.

“Alright, shake it off and reset.”

Kara takes a deep breath, gritting her teeth as her palm presses against the sore spot. “No.”

A beat of silence. “Excuse me?”

“I’m done,” she says as she makes her way toward the locker room. “I’m leaving.”

“Supergirl, you can’t just walk away from training.”

Kara shoves against the door but it doesn’t open. “Watch me.”

Alex’s voice is getting closer. “Kara! Where are you going?”

She breaks the handle off.

 

+

 

Sneaking into the med-bay is easy enough, but after an hour under the sun lamps her abdomen still aches with every inhale and exhale, and by the time she gets home she’s using her own freeze breath on her hand to lessen the throbbing between her knuckles.

It doesn’t work.

(The healing, that is.)

Kara lies back on her mattress, bracing herself as best she can while her ribs protest under her shirt, and she’s so focused on the soreness flaring in her side that she almost doesn’t hear her phone buzzing in her jacket pocket.

She lets it ring and ring and ring and ring and  _ stop _ , waits for a voicemail, doesn’t get one.

(Her chest feels tight, like she’s put on her Supergirl suit and everything is a size too small.)

Kara presses her palm to the place where a human heart would go and gives herself a few deep breaths, but then she glances down and her knuckles are  _ dark _ , and the color is one she’s never seen on her skin before, and that shouldn’t be there multiple days after hitting a practice dummy.

She sits up too fast and her ribs scream, and when she lifts her shirt up the dark is there too, vivid and boot-shaped and so, so angry.

Her hand is trembling a little when it closes and locks the bathroom door behind her. She stands in front of the mirror, doesn’t look yet as she strips down to nothing, then finally lifts her eyes and sucks in a breath.

The bruises are  _ everywhere _ . Not just on her knuckles where she hit the dummy, or splashed across her ribs where Alex’s roundhouse kick landed, but on her shoulder where she braced a car-sized concrete slab that otherwise would’ve crushed a small child, and wrapped around her hip where an alien species she still can’t pronounce tackled her from behind, and—

And her hands are shaking more, but so is the rest of her body, and she clenches her jaw to keep her teeth still.

She’s  _ cold _ .

Temperature has never affected her before — not during the worst National City winters, not in the Fortress of Solitude, and certainly not in her own apartment — but now she’s shivering, full-body tremors and a dull prickling under her skin, and Kara rushes to put her clothes back on.

Her phone is buzzing again and she leaves her jacket exactly where it is, breezing right through her bedroom to the kitchen, eyes scanning the bare countertop and table. The sigh of relief is short-lived as she imagines the food, the  _ smells _ that will be filling this apartment in a few hours, the people who will be here and eating and watching her, wondering, asking why she’s not eating—

_ “What did you eat today?” _

Kara sinks into the chair at the head of the table, pushes her hair out of her face, wraps her arms tightly around her chest, tries to figure out why she’s cold and should she be shaking this much and what if she needs food to heal and she’s gotten so good at not eating and why didn’t the heat lamps work and everything has been so much simpler without food and what if she loses all of her powers and Alex figures out what she’s doing and what if Lena—

_ Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. _

She covers her ears.

_ Buzzzzz. Buzzzzz. _

Silence.

Kara lets out a deep breath, wincing as the bruise stretches with her lungs, then makes her way back to her bedroom and opens each of her dresser drawers one by one, looking for—

She shoves the last drawer closed with enough force to rattle the objects on top, digs her phone out of her jacket, and taps the screen.

Three missed calls from Lena.

She taps the most recent notification and only waits half a ring before—

“Kara! Thank goodness. Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Absolutely!” She hates how unsteady her hand is while also struggling to remember why she called Lena in the first place.

Her silence gives Lena an opening. “I’m sorry to call so much, I—I just wanted to make sure you—”

“I’m fine,” Kara interrupts, shrugging off another wave of shivers. “Um, do you still have my National City University sweatshirt?”

A few beats. “Yes, I believe I washed it in yesterday’s laundry.”

Kara can  _ feel _ how badly Lena wants to know why she’s asking. “Oh! Great. Um. Could you bring it with you tonight? I’m feeling a little—”

“Yes, yes, of course I can.”

“Th-thank you,” she manages, shivering for another beat before carefully climbing into her bed and under the covers. “I’ll see you—”

“Is there anything else I should bring?” Lena interrupts this time. “Anything you need?”

She physically shakes her head before the words make it out. “No! I’m — I’m good. Promise,” she tacks on the end, and the word sits heavy on her tongue.

Lena doesn’t reply right away. “If you’re sure,” she says, her voice too soft. “See you soon, Kara.”

The call ends.

Kara puts her phone face-down on the bedside table and pulls the covers up over her head.

_ “Anything you need?” _

_ “Just tell me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.” _

(Like her Supergirl suit is two sizes too small.)

 

+

 

Someone is knocking on the door.

Kara digs her way out of her blankets and barely remembers to grab her glasses before heading across the living room, but the lock clicks when she’s still several strides away and Alex pokes her head in a beat later.

“Hey,” she says gently, carefully, “I know I’m early.” Alex slips inside with a grocery bag in each hand and takes her time closing the door behind her, not turning back around to face Kara until the absolutely has to, then does a double-take at her bed-head. ”Were you sleeping?”

“I’m fine,” Kara replies, smoothing down her stray locks then stuffing her bruised knuckles into her pocket.

Alex nods, walks to the kitchen island, sets the bags down. “You didn’t seem fine, earlier.”

Kara doesn’t bother responding.

“I thought about it a lot this afternoon, and I think today was the first time you’ve ever quit in the middle of training. You’ve literally never walked out on me in all the years we’ve been doing this Supergirl thing.” Kara laughs under her breath and Alex gives her a look. “Is something funny?”

She shakes her head and shrugs. “No, no, it’s nothing.” Alex gives her a look; Kara looks anywhere else. “Just that…  _ I _ ,” she emphasizes finally, “have been doing this Supergirl thing. Completely alone. The only Kryptonian on planet Earth.”

Alex perches carefully on one of the stools. “Kara, you… you’ve known that. For a long time. The alien part, at least,” she amends after a beat. “But you’re not alone. You’ve always had me.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Kara asks, trying and failing to keep her voice level. “I’m the last surviving member of my species in the whole universe, but at least I have a completely non-blood-related human to keep me company.”

She watches Alex swallow what looks like several different retorts before taking a deep breath. “What about Clark? I know he’s only one person, but—”

“Yes,” Kara interrupts with an eye roll, “my older-but-technically-younger cousin who left Krypton when he was a baby and doesn’t remember anything about where we came from.”

“Could the Fortress of Solitude help at all? There must be archives, or records, or—“

Kara laughs again, louder this time. “That’s a  _ great  _ idea. My holographic parents will be able to tell me  _ exactly  _ what’s going on.”

Alex’s expression shifts. “What  _ is _ going on, Kara?”

Her jaw clamps shut for a beat. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t understand?” Alex echoes incredulously. “Kara, I understand you better than anyone else. We—we grew up together, and the DEO is—”

“That’s not good enough.”

Alex is staring her down. “Did you have some Red-K with your breakfast this morning? Because that’s how you’re acting right now.”

“Wow, this conversation’s going great,” she deadpans. “Kara’s in a bad mood, she must’ve been poisoned.”

“Kara, that’s not what I—”

A  _ knock knock knock-knock knock  _ cuts Alex off mid-sentence and Winn and James let themselves into the apartment.

“Just want you guys to know that I had  _ nothing _ to do with the three different versions of Monopoly that Winn decided to bring,” James announces as Winn struggles with with an enormous armful of board games.

He sets them on the table with a grunt, panting like he just finished a workout. “Nerdiness is a spectrum,” Winn explains matter-of-factly, “and we must be prepared for all scenarios.”

Alex’s eyes are still on Kara.

“I need to change,” she says to nobody in particular, then uses super-speed to escape the kitchen, grab a change of clothes, and lock herself in the bathroom.

(She’s winded when she stops, but at least she’s not as cold anymore.)

As she pulls on a fresh pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt she hears the dull creak of someone sitting on her bed. Kara rolls her eyes, throws open the door, and—

Lena is perched on the edge of her mattress, NCU sweatshirt folded neatly in her lap.

“Hi,” Kara says after letting out the big breath of air she’d prepared for telling Alex to leave her alone.

“Sorry if I’m intruding,” Lena replies, the words too quiet and too neutral, and Kara’s starting to hate this version of her voice. “Alex said you were in here.”

Kara shakes her head and offers a small smile. “Of course you’re not intruding.” She waits for Lena to speak, but gets nothing. “Um. Thanks for bringing the—”

“Oh, don’t mention it.” Lena still doesn’t hold out the sweatshirt, or move at all. “Will you sit with me, just for a moment?” she requests instead, patting the empty space to her left; her eye contact and clenched jaw dare Kara to say no.

“Is everything okay?” she hears herself ask as she sinks into the designated patch of blanket, covering her bruised knuckles with her healthy ones and letting both hands rest on her leg as casually as possible.

Lena takes a full breath in and out. “When I get cold,” Lena begins carefully, staring straight down at the sweatshirt now, “it’s sometimes because I haven’t…” Her lips tighten for a beat. “Because I haven’t eaten enough,” she finishes, sounding almost like she doesn’t have enough oxygen in her lungs. “Obviously I don’t know if that’s the case here, but if—if you wanted to try…” She trails off. “A hot bowl of soup might help, or—”

“I’m actually feeling a lot better now,” Kara interrupts, getting off the bed and crossing her arms across her chest again. “Probably just the air conditioning acting up… my landlord must’ve fixed whatever the problem was.”

“I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry,” Lena manages, “forget I said anything.” She finally offers the sweatshirt. “Here, take it.”

Kara takes a single step back. “It’s okay. I’m fine, I don’t need it anymore.” She turns to go but now Lena is on her feet.

“Please, Kara.”

Both words are thick with emotion, too heavy, too scared, and it takes all her remaining super-strength to turn back around; Lena’s eyes are shining.

“Please,” Lena repeats, extending her arms a little further.

(So Kara could reach out, if she wanted to.)

“Thank you for bringing it,” Kara says quietly, “but I’m fine.”

She doesn’t hesitate before heading back to the kitchen, doesn’t hear Lena follow her, doesn’t turn around to look.

 

+

 

Her plate has five potato chips, three meatballs, and a handful of pretzels.

She’s been staring it down long enough for Winn to pass Go twice, and she’s had a pretzel in her hand for most of that time so it always looks like she’s just about to eat it.

Not that any of this seems to be fooling Lena, who glances in her direction between every sip of wine. Kara pretends not to notice as she rolls the dice and moves her piece along the game board, landing on an open property space.

“Are we interested in a purchase, Miss Danvers?” Winn asks, gesturing at the bank.

“Only because I know James has had his eye on it every single turn,” she teases, handing Winn the required bills and setting a plastic house on the space.

James studies the board intently. “More like I’ve had my eye on  _ you _ .”

Kara snaps to attention. “What? Why?”

“I swear you’ve gotten  _ way _ too lucky with your Community Chest cards tonight. Why don’t you go ahead and give the pile a shuffle so I know there’s no cheating happening in this room?” he challenges her with a grin, watching her expectantly.

Kara’s bruised hand clenches into a fist beside her hip. “You’re just being paranoid,” she replies, then holds up her pretzel, “I’m busy, and it’s Winn’s turn.” She lets her eyes flit toward Lena for the briefest second to confirm she’s being watched, wets her lips, then wills her mouth to open wide enough to slip the pretzel inside.

Biting down has never taken so much effort.

(Lena looks away in her peripheral vision.)

“Well, I happen to need a fresh plate of jalapeno poppers,” Winn says, getting to his feet. “Go ahead and give our favorite sore loser here some peace of mind.”

James looks offended. “Hey!”

“You’re welcome,” he adds, then takes his plate and heads to the kitchen.

Kara is still chewing, slowly and carefully, getting used to the feeling of food in her mouth and steeling herself to swallow; she does, takes a deep breath, and is reaching for another pretzel when James gestures at the board.

“Now you  _ gotta _ shuffle them, to make any of what just happened worth it.”

She hesitates for a beat but grabs the deck. “This is not an admission of guilt, just so we’re clear.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” James interrupts when she tries to bring the cards closer to her. “Keep ‘em on the board where I can see them.”

Kara’s mouth is dry from the first pretzel but she adds the second and quickly tries to shuffle the stack of cards with both hands.

He leans forward in his chair. “Damn, what did you do to your hand?”

“Oh, I um… I don’t even remember,” she stammers and tries to angle her palm face-up, but he takes her wrist gently and turns it back over. “It just—happened, at some point. I guess.”

“Papercuts ‘just happen,’” he challenges, letting go after a beat but still looking curiously. “ _ That _ looks like you just finished carving Mount Rushmore with your bare hands.”

“What’s Kara doing with her bare hands?” Winn asks as he returns with a full plate of food.

She forces the pretzel down, grabs another. “Not cheating, which I’m assuming has been established at this point.”

“Fine, yes, you’ve made your point,” James agrees then turns to Winn. “Did you see that nasty bruise on her hand?”

Winn frowns. “I didn’t think Kara  _ got _ bruises,” he says, then shoots a panicked glance at Lena and clears his throat. “‘Cause, like, journalists aren’t really known for getting into street brawls.” He pauses and stares at Kara. “Unless CatCo has an underground fight club we don’t talk about.”

Kara finishes chewing, swallows, tries to ignore the twisting pressure she already feels in the pit of her stomach. “CatCo doesn’t have a fight club, Winn.”

“Of course,” he agrees with a knowing nod and wink. “Understood.”

“And it’s your turn,” she adds, but then the pressure in her stomach rises and she grips the couch armrest. “I… I’ll be right back.”

She keeps her steps even and normal until she reaches her bedroom curtain, then rushes into the bathroom, drops in front of the toilet, and dry-heaves until the pressure goes away.

Deep breath in and out. A second. A third.

Kara flushes the empty bowl, picks herself up off the floor, washes her hands—

(scrubs at the bruises on her knuckles like she could wipe them clean if she just tried hard enough)

—and goes back to the living room.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, plopping herself onto the couch and determinedly grabbing another pretzel, but she misses whatever answer she gets because Lena and Alex are in the kitchen together, and their expressions and body language are too serious for small talk.

They look in her direction and Kara focuses her super-hearing; as soon as she finds their voices, Alex reaches toward the kitchen sink and turns on the water full-blast, completely drowning out the conversation.

“Be right back,” Kara announces again, taking a handful of pretzels with her as she crosses the room. “I can take care of the dishes, Alex,” she offers, only to find an empty sink.

“I was just rinsing my hands,” Alex says. “Keep playing your game, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Alex is looking right at her, and Lena is looking exclusively at her glass of wine, and Kara takes a loud bite of pretzel then leans over the counter and reaches for the pretzel bag where it’s sitting in front of Lena. “You don’t mind if I steal these, do you?”

Lena’s jaw muscle works for a beat. “No, of course not. Go right ahead.”

Kara snatches it like she’s just won the lottery. “Anyone want some before I eat this entire bag?” She holds it out to Alex, who shakes her head, and then to Lena.

“Take it,” Lena says, emotionless this time.

 

+

 

(She leaves the pretzels on her bed while she vomits, flushes the bowl without looking at what even came up, and leans back against the side of the tub.

Between breaths, Kara hears the dull creak of someone sitting on her mattress.

Her head turns and she imagines using X-ray vision to look through the wall, but her eyes are too wet.

She stays on the floor until she hears another creak, the sound of someone leaving her bed, her room.

Kara shakes, and she’s not sure if the sweatshirt would help anymore.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep breaths.
> 
> I hope this was satisfying, even if it was also painful. Thank you to Kayla for talking me through each of these scenes and never letting any moment scare me too much to write.
> 
> The next chapter will come much faster, because I need the hurt/comfort just as much as you do. Promise.
> 
> Love you all.


	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is my love letter to Kara Danvers, and I cried twice while writing it because I happened to have a lot of Emotions over the weekend about my own insecurities and fears about fucking stuff up. Good news is, being vulnerable with Lena Luthor is a helluva drug.
> 
> Thank you all for your support, patience, and feelings through this story. I'm honored to have written it, and proud of these 3,300 words that finish it.
> 
> Hurt/comfort awaits. (ALL TRIGGER WARNINGS STILL APPLY.)

She tries.

Ten pretzels is her record, and she doesn’t even throw any of it up afterwards, but it’s like Kara’s stomach knows that she wishes she didn’t have to eat and thus refuses to humor anything that comes its way.

In all of her years on Earth she’s never had nausea like this, never struggled to keep individual bites of food down, and even when she tries switching from pretzels to grilled cheese to leftover dumplings, she still ends up on her knees in front of the toilet waiting to breathe normally again.

( _She thinks about people sitting on her bed and getting back up again and elevators and sweatshirts and how she could reach out, if she wanted to_.)

Kara glances at the clock after her latest round of dry-heaves and oh, she was supposed to be sleeping this whole time, and _oh_ , her workday starts in an hour.

She pre-orders a breakfast burrito from her favorite place down the street and types out a text message to Lena.

**_Long line for food this morning. Will be in ASAP!_ **

Her stomach already hurts.

 

+

 

Most of the staff is already on lunch break by the time she finishes that stupid burrito, and as the final bite slides down her throat like wet cement, she can’t even commit to feeling victorious.

(How could she, when she’s so occupied with the knots in her stomach and the pressure everywhere above it?)

She hasn’t seen Lena yet today, so Lena hasn’t seen the food wrapper and used napkin sitting on Kara’s desk like trophies—not that it matters, because what’s important is that she ate a full meal and that means she doesn’t have to lie today.

Kara sighs in relief and the movement triggers a wave of tightness that spreads from her belly button to her rib cage; she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly to try to release the tension, but the pressure just expands to her chest and now her inhales and exhales are getting louder and her hands are shaking against the keyboard—

She grips the edge of her desk, bracing herself for—

(The bathroom is on the other side of the—)

Her insides twist and then she’s a blur rushing toward the women’s door, and the hinges somehow remain intact but the stall door gets a handprint as Kara throws it open and drops to the floor—

(She thinks there might be bruises on her knees now.)

There’s so much heat in her chest and it spreads up and up and _out_ and she’s not dry-heaving this time, doesn’t even know what’s coming out of her, doesn’t _want_ to know, keeps her eyes closed as the next wave hits.

(She listened to Alex get over stomach viruses and food poisoning, listened to Winn’s panic attacks after his first near-death experience, and she almost laughs through her next gasp of oxygen when she realizes she has no idea if this right now is even comparable to human sickness.)

“Kara?”

The voice slips gently between her ragged breaths, but she doesn’t have the energy to turn around. Her throat burns and her insides ache and she vomits again and she wishes more than anything that it would just stop, stop, _stop_.

A second gulp of air, then a third. Everything above her hips feels tense and raw, and her limbs are heavy as she flushes the toilet and leans back against the wall; she doesn’t open her eyes, just wipes her mouth with the back of her palm.

“It’s not what you think,” she manages.

A beat of silence. “Kara, is that blood?”

Her eyes blink open and she glances down at the bright red smear on her hand, and now she does let some weak, shaky semblance of a laugh escape from her throat.

“I have no idea.”

Her lips are wobbling by the end of the sentence and everything is blurry, but she feels a damp paper towel against her hot skin, and when she blinks away her tears she finds Lena sitting on the floor beside her, wiping away the crimson.

“The other night,” Lena begins quietly, “when I heard you in the bathroom…”

“It wasn’t—” Kara croaks. “It’s not on purpose. I just… can’t keep anything down.”

The towel against her hand becomes Lena’s thumb ghosting over Kara’s knuckles. “That happens, sometimes,” Lena replies, each word slow and careful, “if you go a while without eating.”

Kara’s face is wet again and head pounding as she pulls her knees against her chest, pressing her free palm over her temple and trying to remember the last time her skin was this hot.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

Kara wets her lips, clears her throat. “I’ll be fine. I just need a second.”

Lena’s thumb is still brushing back and forth. “I wasn’t asking. There’s a car waiting for us downstairs.”

“Us?” Kara echoes, and by the time she looks up, there’s an outstretched hand waiting to offer assistance. “I don’t—I said I’m fine,” she insists through clenched teeth.

There’s a nearly inaudible sigh, and then Lena is kneeling in front of her, looking Kara square in the eye. “We both know that’s not true,” she says, now sounding firm and matter-of-fact, “and you need to know that that’s okay.” Lena offers her hand again. “Come with me.”

Kara adjusts her glasses and lets Lena slowly pull her to her unsteady feet, lets Lena catch her, lets Lena fix a few loose locks of hair that have fallen out of her elastic.

Lena takes a half-step toward the door, only for Kara to brace herself against the stall walls, and Lena’s hands are back in an instant.

“I’m f…” Kara stops herself. “I just—”

“I’ve got you,” Lena promises, “and I won’t let go unless you tell me to.”

(Kara doesn’t say a word after that.)

 

+

 

When she wakes up her head is cold, her hand is warm, and her whole body feels like concrete.

She stirs and the warmth against her hand tightens. “Lena?” she mumbles with a lot more effort than she’s expecting.

Fingers comb through her hair once, then again. “You passed out in the car and my driver brought you upstairs. But I didn’t let go,” she continues, the words impossibly gentle, “as promised.”

Kara’s free hand finds a cool washcloth against her forehead and she takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, then opens her eyes; Lena’s expression is worried but relieved as it swims into view above her, Lena’s eyes lingering on Kara’s bruised knuckles.

“You’ve scared me quite a bit these last few weeks.”

She wets her lips, breathes in, breathes out. “Should I bother asking why?”

Lena’s jaw muscles clench, and she takes her time brushing a few locks of Kara’s hair away from the washcloth. “I don’t want to overstep,” she says carefully, “or assume, or… I only want you to know that I…” She seems to cycle through a few different next words. “I care for you, more than—and no matter what it is that you’re going through…” Lena pauses to dab just a little at the corner of her own eye. “You can always talk to me, Kara.”

Kara’s chest is tight and head still aching dully as she weighs each of the secrets she’s been keeping from Lena, the small and the big and the massive, and she could vomit again from the weight of everything she hasn’t said; but now she’s thinking about the bathroom and the bright red and the knots in her stomach and the way her mouth goes dry every time she lies—

“I stopped eating.”

She doesn’t look at Lena as she says it, but she can feel Lena’s long exhale after.

“What happened?” Lena asks quietly.

Kara knows she could blame the jokes and it wouldn’t be untrue, and Lena wouldn’t push any further; she also knows Lena deserves better than that.

She sets the washcloth aside, slowly sits upright, and tries to make herself as small as she feels, torn between moving as far away as Lena’s couch will allow or not moving another inch. “I don’t understand anything about my body,” she forces out, past the lump in her throat. “I have the what, but not the why or the how, and there’s no one that can…” She thinks she might burst at any second. “I’m just… all alone, not knowing.”

Lena is silent and Kara can’t bear to make eye contact, so she stares at Lena’s silver necklace instead. “It’s not like you can cut me open and see what’s inside, and I just…” A few tears fall and she wipes them with her sleeve. “I just wanted to see what would happen,” she admits after a beat. “And I got angry and selfish, and I lied to everyone that I love.” Her insides tense and she struggles through her next breath. “You and Alex both tried so hard to—and I…”

“Lashed out,” Lena finishes for her, “like anyone else would have in your situation.” She pauses for a beat. “Like I always did.”

Kara’s eyes snap to Lena’s, which are aimed down at her own lap. “What?”

Lena sighs. “Kara, part of what scared me is how much of my past I recognized in your behavior. It’s why I had my suspicions of what was happening, but also why I didn’t confront you at first… why I couldn’t.” Her mouth closes and opens a few times. “For me, it was always about control—over whether I ate, and whether anyone else knew—and the moment Lex or my mother tried to get involved… that control was challenged. Those were some of our worst fights, and I worried that if I stepped in too soon, or at the wrong time… that whatever you were going through, I’d just make it worse.”

Now Kara just feels numb. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “Lena, I had no idea.”

“We seem to have a habit of protecting each other from ourselves,” she observes with the faintest smile.

Something about her tone lights a fire in Kara’s chest, one that she’s felt on and off since the day she met Lena but had never quite overcome her until now, and her mouth fills with so many words she doesn’t know where to start.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Lena says abruptly. “I set your glasses on the table for you.”

They both glance in that direction, to where her glasses sit beside a mug of tea, but Kara doesn’t move.

“I don’t need them,” she replies instead, with unexpected ease.

“I know.”

Kara’s stomach drops, both at Lena’s words and how matter-of-fact they are. “You… You do?”

“I’ve had my suspicions,” is Lena’s pointed reply, “but I worried that if I stepped in too soon, or at the wrong time…”

She buries her face in her hands and shakes her head. “I’m the _worst_ for making you worry about me this much.”

Lena’s smile is a little bigger now. “I wouldn’t say that,” she challenges, then gestures for Kara to come closer, and Kara tucks herself into Lena’s side before an arm wraps securely around her shoulders. “I’d say that you’re complex, and curious, and passionate, and many other things that you have absolutely every right to be.”

“Don’t forget a liar,” Kara mutters, and there’s a brief moment of panic when Lena shifts away from her, but then a warm hand cups her cheek and tilts her face up until they’re making direct eye contact.

“Please don’t ever think that about yourself, Kara.”

Kara’s eyes are burning with tears again. “Tell me I’m wrong. That I’ve always told you the truth since the first day we met.”

Lena brushes away a stray drop of moisture. “You’ve always done what you thought would keep everyone safe,” she counters. “You… me… Alex… National City,” she adds after a beat, smiling coyly.

Kara leans into Lena’s palm before covering it with her own, then she squeezes Lena’s hand and brings it down so she can hold it in both of hers.

“What is it?”

“I should call Alex,” Kara forces out, wiping away another tear before Lena has the chance to.

Lena nods slowly. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Kara’s squeezing again and Lena squeezes back. “I’m really scared,” she says, choking on each word, and Lena waits. “What if she’s angry that I—” Kara sobs, lets the tears fall. “That I let her down.”

“Listen to me,” Lena replies immediately, lacing her fingers with Kara’s. “I know the guilt you’re feeling—the shame. But Kara, anyone who truly loves you could _never_ blame you for having these struggles.” Her voice softens even more. “Your role in this universe is not an easy load to bear, and you haven’t failed anyone by needing answers.”

Kara can’t see Lena anymore and focuses on the hand holding tightly onto hers. “But I still don’t have answers. All of this was for nothing.”

Lena presses the gentlest kiss to Kara’s forehead then leans her own forehead against the same spot. “Then let’s find the answers together.”

 

+

 

Alex doesn’t ask any questions when Kara asks her to meet her at Lena’s apartment, nor does she notice Kara’s lack of ponytail or glasses until she takes a seat next to her on the couch.

Lena sets water on the coffee table before taking a nearby armchair, and that’s when Kara sees Alex glancing from her to the glasses to Lena.

“She knows,” Kara says, then shrugs one shoulder. “She’s known.”

Alex looks at Lena, who nods. “And I won’t tell a soul.”

“Ah. Well. Great,” Alex mutters and downs several sips of water.

“But that’s not what…” Kara can feel them both watching her. “Alex,” she says quietly, “I have to tell you some things. And you’re probably gonna be really mad, but—”

“Kara,” Lena interrupts gently.

Deep breath in, slow breath out. “Do you remember when you asked me what was going on?” Alex nods. “And you know how I keep snapping at you and generally being kind of a jerk?”

“Look, that fight the other day was partially my fault. I shouldn’t have—”

“I haven’t been eating,” Kara blurts, then braces herself for whatever’s next.

Alex blinks. “Eating what?”

Another deep breath. “Anything.”

“For how long?” Alex asks after a beat.

She stares down at her lap. “Since I took those textbooks from your closet.”

Alex is silent as she does the math, shaking her head a little. “Kara, that was… that was weeks ago.”

“I need you to ask me why.”

The crinkle of worry between Alex’s eyebrows deepens as she glances at Lena, who’s focused on Kara. “Why haven’t you been eating?”

( _Anyone who truly loves you could_ **_never_ ** _blame you for having these struggles._

_You haven’t failed anyone by needing answers._ )

“Being Supergirl,” Kara begins after a long and terrifying beat of silence, “is… amazing, and exciting, and important—sometimes. But it’s also really, really hard. There’s an entire city of people depending on me to keep them safe every single day, using these Kryptonian powers that I barely even understand, coming from a body that… that I don’t understand at all,” she admits, glancing down at her palms. “Do you know what happens when I eat enough food to sustain my metabolism?” Kara asks, but doesn’t wait for Alex to answer. “Everyone jokes about it. Whether they know my secret or not.”

Alex opens her mouth to speak but Kara cuts her off again.

“And even though they’re just jokes, they’re a constant reminder of how different I am from my family and my friends. How not-human I am.” Kara curls her fingers into loose fists. “Do you know what happens when I don’t eat?”

She waits for Alex to answer this time.

“No,” Alex says quietly. “I don’t.”

Kara turns her hands over to reveal her knuckles. “I didn’t either.”

Alex leans forward and her fingertips drift toward the bruises, but don’t touch. “This was just from training?”

“This one, too,” Kara confirms, gripping her side where the bigger and darker bruise is. “The rest are from actual fights, but—”

“But you shouldn’t be bruising at all,” Alex finishes for her. “Kara, I…” She’s holding back tears and she covers her mouth like she’s horrified with herself. “I had no idea I was hurting you.”

Kara shakes her head. “I know, but it’s my fault I didn’t tell you—”

“Kara Danvers, don’t you _dare_ let your own sister get away with not paying enough attention,” Alex interrupts, and wipes at the moisture in her eyes. “I know that I get stuck in DEO-mode sometimes, and—”

“But you tried,” Kara insists. “You knew something was wrong, and you gave me every chance to tell you, but—”

“But sometimes it’s not that easy,” Lena finishes, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “I think we all played a role in causing you pain, and we owe it to you and ourselves to help you heal in any way that we can.”

Alex nods. “I agree. Tell me—tell us,” she amends, “what you need, and we’ll do it.”

Kara hugs her knees to her chest, tries to push away the sleepiness she can feel creeping back in. “I’m not sure it’s that simple,” she admits after a beat. “I’m not sure I know what I need.”

“And that’s okay,” Lena affirms, leaving her armchair to sit on the other side of Kara. “Recovery is a long and complicated process that’s different for everyone,” she continues, “which means that I can share what I learned from my experience, but I might not have the answers regarding your own.”

She takes Kara’s hand, and Alex takes the other one.

“Then maybe we should find the answers together,” Kara suggests, aiming the smallest smile at Lena, who mirrors it ten-fold.

“Together,” Lena agrees, then glances at Alex.

Alex nods. “Together.”

 

\+ + +

 

She still has trouble with solid food, and Lena insists on clearing her schedule so they can use her private L-Corp lab, and what little data the DEO has on Kryptonians, to design Kara a custom nutrition smoothie of sorts.

Lena and Alex work around the clock on ingredients and then texture and then taste, and Alex steps away every few hours to help Kara with training—at her own pace, now, and with a focus on getting her strength back and documenting her physical limits.

The latest version of the smoothie Lena gives her is dark red, thick as a milkshake, and doesn’t taste like any Earth food she’s ever had; Lena tells her she wanted to avoid any potentially triggering flavors, and instead synthesized one based on a fruit that once grew on Krypton.

(Kara drinks the entire glass without any nausea and asks for another.

Both Lena and Alex pretend not to cry.)

Her bruises have started to fade by the time she sits down with Winn and James. She invites them to lunch, ironically, but at a cafe where the portions are smaller, and tells them the important pieces of her speech to Alex—about the jokes, about what she knows her body needs and what she doesn’t know yet and what she might never figure out.

(She’s calm through every word, and she lets them apologize profusely, and then lets them each hug her hard enough to make her side ache just a little.)

Kara falls asleep on Lena’s couch more than once, sometimes waking up with tightness in her chest and Lena already at her side to help get her breathing back to normal, to talk her through the darkest thoughts, and to remind her that nothing about this is impossible.

That even invincible people don’t have to be invincible alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't know, I wrote an original queer series called BIFL that premiered at ClexaCon and will soon be available to stream Somewhere. BIFL the series dot com. Even more emotions! Go get 'em!
> 
> (Comments are so appreciated.)


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